Who I Really Am
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: It definitely affected her, but how and maybe more particularly… why?
1. Chapter 1

BETA READ by _Dani Werner_

* * *

Chapter 1

Hermione gently knocked on the door to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office, uneasily balancing the weight of the report folder on one arm. The thought of a charm to make it feather light or a _Wingardium Leviosa _must have slipped through her mind. She waited until she heard Kingsley's deep voice, giving her permission to enter. The door flew open to let her inside as she awkwardly reached for the handle. Hermione smiled apologetically though very gratefully, moving to the desk. The door fell shut again with a wave of the Minister's wand.

The Minister for Magic seemed very surprised indeed as she handed the full heavy report to him with a smile – heavy enough to make sure an adult would have to use both of his or her hands not to let it escape their hold.

He had just given this to her last Tuesday, but even with her very busy schedule he knew Hermione had set for herself for the week, she had finished this, too. "You surprise me every day still," he said. He laid the file down and slowly opened the folder, finding that Hermione had made sure to add a tabulation and some page markers to make handling the file easier. Kingsley was stunned at her thoughtfulness. He leafed through the first couple of pages, then closed it and pushed the report folder aside . "I've got absolutely no doubt that it is perfectly in order and ready to be classified."

Hermione smiled. "I try," she said. Kingsley Shacklebolt never forgot to mention how his people did their work well, which was a nice way of working. "You're coming to the memorial at Hogwarts tonight, too?"

Kingsley's eyes momentarily fell shut at the mention of Hogwarts. She could see the man damn himself internally. "Of course – so many years since the Great Battle. I thought of it when I came in early this morning." Then he opened his eyes and considered her carefully for a long moment, sighing deeply. "I definitely hope to be there," he said, "but I have a rather late meeting set with the French Minister for Magic, so I'm not sure I'll make it. The memorial is mostly for the British Wizarding folk, so he didn't consider it, nor I when I confirmed it then really…"

"Ah, don't blame yourself," Hermione said. "The memorial is after all three days early this year because of the circumstances, so it is no surprise it has escaped your busy mind. I'm going home. Ron and I are meeting Harry and Ginny, and we're going to Hogwarts together then. If not later tonight, I guess that I'll see you here on Tuesday again… and in that case, I hope you have a good weekend!"

* * *

When Hogwarts got rebuilt, a tall grey marble stone pillar was erected at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, where Albus Dumbledore, one of many lost, had fallen when he had tumbled off after Snape had taken his life. It contained names of all those who had gone down in the Battle and before, beginning when He returned to his body at the TriWizard Tournament finale and told poor Wormtail to kill Cedric Diggory, the 'spare'. Each year, those names, those people, were remembered by the pupils and staff and a few guests, survivors of the Battle now seven years prior already. They would dine together in the Great Hall after that.

Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had taken to hold the memorial that Friday, April 29, given May 2 that year was a Monday, and a Friday was easier for all parties involved. It fit the schedule of the guests – after all, most were working people – and the pupils better.

She fleetingly hugged Minerva McGonagall, who momentarily tightened her arms about her ex-pupil as well before letting go of her. As both women parted after the brief hug, the smell of the older woman's perfume immediately rose to meet the younger's nostrils, and it reminded her in a flash of afternoons sat in the grass at Hogwarts, with sunshine gently burning her skin and the tall grass and small flowers beneath her and surrounding her for so many feet.

The headmistress of Hogwarts wasn't usually affectionate, and _certainly not_ in public, but they were survivors of the same Battle they were commemorating today. "I haven't had the joy of seeing you in a little while," Minerva said. "I've read that your decree got accepted."

Hermione nodded, laughing lightly. "Finally!" she confirmed. "I'm so glad, though. I worked long and hard enough on that one, so I'm quite relieved it did get accepted in the end. I hadn't hoped on it anymore, since it had taken so long already for them to reach a decision. It came really as a nice surprise."

"Ah, don't forget to relax sometimes, too; don't get overworked…" Minerva cautioned.

Hermione slightly quirked her eyebrow, as if to dare the other witch. She herself had worked like mad right after the Battle to get the school rebuilt even though she really wasn't well yet, having escaped St. Mungo's rather than having awaited release.

"I'll remain quiet," Minerva said, her eyes telling the younger woman she was amused. Her eyes had always been windows to her heart, no matter how often closed for those she didn't know well – clouded maybe.

Both women shared a look between them that spoke of… _harmony_, and small smiles directed to each other naturally.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I have had this idea for months. I have been uncertain about whether I should write it or not, though; then whether to post or not –– this is the result!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione slowly slipped her white nightdress over her head, barely hiding a yawn. While Molly had always had a gift for making delicious food, the always copious dinners at Hogwarts still were entirely different. While Ron usually ate the most of all, she had definitely done her best tonight, too. It had left her nicely full, but just not to the point of feeling sick. It had left her slightly tired, and she was glad she didn't have to go into work the next day. The thought of sleeping in had its appeal for sure. She smiled at her fiancé in the bathroom mirror as she blindly reached for her purple toothbrush and some toothpaste.

She cast her gaze down so she felt more than saw his arms slowly sneak around her slender waist. She continued to furiously scrub her teeth, feeling his warm breath beside her ear, his lips below it, and she knew what he wanted at once. While she was tired indeed, the thought wasn't unsavory, especially not when he murmured into her ear just the way he knew Hermione liked. Hermione knew that she was too tired now to last all night, though.

His hand moved lower, and he laughed at how Hermione began to run the toothbrush much faster across her teeth. "I like this," he said and began to finger the hem of the nightdress. "I love how it suits you. I love it how your nipples poke through the nearly see-through fabric." His hand tightened as a shiver ran up and back down her spine. He could feel it, she knew. Like she could feel the clear evidence of _him_, too…

As his warm hand moved up ever so slowly with the white nightdress, her free hand immediately shot down, stilling it, and he snickered again, kissing her exposed shoulder, as if to let her know he didn't really need to use his hands if he wanted. Hermione had always been responsive…

"I like the thought of my future wife wearing sexy nightwear for me…" he murmured, running his nose over her shoulder now in a loving way.

She let go of his hand to hold her long hair aside, then bent over to spit the leftover toothpaste down into the silvery drain, holding her toothbrush under the jet of water and letting the water clean it for next time. She lowered her head under the jet to rinse her mouth a couple of times before turning the tap off and putting the manual toothbrush back into its spot on the lavabo.

She had only just done so when Ron tightened his arms and immediately began to kiss her neck more urgently. "Who else?" she whispered, throwing down the rag she had used to wipe her mouth and turning in her fiancé's arms…

* * *

Despite feeling utterly exhausted, Hermione couldn't quite manage to fall asleep… unlike Ron, who had nearly immediately after having rolled off his fiancée. He snored – not so very loud, but possibly enough to keep her from falling asleep, too. She couldn't say whether that was the reason for it or not. After all, it hadn't bothered her that much before either. She hid a yawn with a hand, though there was no one as she entered their living room. The TV somehow caught Hermione's attention, and she slowly padded over to it, turning it on before taking the remote and sinking down on the couch, sigh escaping. She passed through some late night cooking channels, television advertising (_always _the same, it seemed), then stopped when she landed on a channel that was not limited to those. Anything else could only be good, no? Television was rarely good that late – she knew from experience.

Then suddenly the scene shifted from a conversation between a tanned woman and man to women having sex: a blonde woman in stockings beneath one with black spiky hair and small but nice breasts. She was very slender. They were kissing heavily, and Hermione's eyes went wide while she watched. She doubted whether any kiss between her and Ron could have ever looked that… hot. The scene was over way too soon, and she supposed that she would have laughed aloud at that woman as she fell, trying to escape in the bathroom for a husband who had come home… if only she hadn't sat there shocked at what she had just seen… and how it had affected her when watching.

She could feel herself flush, feel the heat increase, even as the scene had already switched. The scene just kept running through her head. Oh dear. She had only just had a bang and tickle with Ron. True, she hadn't reached orgasm this time, but still she was getting affected terribly. She reached for the remote and turned off the television. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the beige couch. Only then, Hermione realized that her breathing had grown heavier; much heavier. She was on the verge of panting even, mind swimming. She felt suddenly lightheaded, slightly dizzy… terribly aroused.

Why was the scene affecting her so, getting her so hot and bothered? She had seen her fair few of sex scenes in movies and TV shows, but never had they been lesbian; and those heterosexual scenes she had seen, had never really been arousing to her. She had, however, noticed, that when Ron and she had seen them together, they had most often been followed by sex later. Why were two half naked women having sex doing so very much to her then? Hermione wasn't even gay or bisexual!

* * *

**Author's** **Note:** Tomorrow, I'll know whether or not I have passed my retakes _and _will either be rejected or accepted to work in the field with the local police. Whatever happens, this will be updated still every Monday and Thursday - I have learned to work ahead!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione tugged on a pair of jeans. Ron and she would leave in a few minutes. Harry had invited them the day prior for a barbecue at theirs. They had gone home early from the battle memorial. Ginny hadn't felt well, and little James had been quite busy. He wasn't exceptionally difficult, but he had his little moment of busyness sometimes, like every other toddler of two. Ginny was having a harder time being with child than she had when she carried James, too. Molly had mentioned she thought he sensed it, elucidating why the fussiness had been more often lately. Children felt stuff like that far better than adults, she had told her daughter and daughter-in-law.

Ginny had a much harder time staying on her feet for long and was still sick on occasion, despite being already six months along. Nonetheless, she had confessed to Hermione she thought they were having a boy again, because she felt exactly the same as she had before – her crazy appetite to begin with. She ate truly the weirdest combinations, Hermione thought. Pickles with chocolate sauce? The mere notion disgusted her.

When Ginny and Harry had announced they were going to be mum and dad for the first time, Ron had been a tad… jealous. She remembered him mentioning the possibility of children with her that very same night. She remembered how he had eyed their nephew with longing for a child of their own. Hermione, however, had held off having a child with Ron for a while. While she had indeed wanted a child or more, and while Ginny and Harry's impending parenthood had reminded her of this, she wasn't like her mother-in-law. She wanted to achieve more at the Ministry first. Ron had seemed very understanding, which she definitely appreciated. She wouldn't have liked to be pestered about it.

That, however, didn't mean he no longer sometimes mentioned children – especially right after visits to or (less often) from the Potters. Eventually, she had quit on birth control a little before Ginny announced that James was getting a sister or brother. Thus far, they hadn't had any luck in conceiving number one, though. They had chosen to let nature do its work, and it hadn't yet, but it didn't have to mean much per se. She was very grateful that Ron wasn't making a big deal of those fruitless months.

She sighed as she tugged the hem of her top down and closed the door of her wardrobe. They were still young; there was enough time left to conceive anyway, no? "Coming!" she yelled, hearing her fiancé calling for her downstairs.

* * *

Little James shrieked with laughter as Ron lifted him up into the air. Hermione smiled slightly as she watched them. He would make a good father at some point, she knew. If his interactions with James were any indication, at least. Her mind wasn't with it all entirely, though. Her thoughts were still on last night, with those women making love. She couldn't get the explicit images from her head. Hermione had somehow fallen asleep upon the couch hours after seeing them. As a logical result, Hermione's muscles now felt uncomfortable and tight.

That was the least of her worries now, though. Well – worries. In all, it just really confused her a lot. She wondered if any other heterosexual women had that sort of reaction to lesbian sex scenes on TV or if she were a great exception. Well, she couldn't be the only one, Hermione's mind reasoned. She wasn't entirely sure whether many women had that same reaction or not, though. Was she a minority? A majority? While she remembered reading somewhere that most women are bisexual deep inside, she had always dismissed it as nonsense – mostly because she had never found confirmation at all in her own life or heard it from Ginny or other girls in her dormitory. Then again, that was never the sort of thing they talked about. She began to consider the truth in the small article, though. Was it really so, that most women were actually bisexual? Was she one of them then?

She sighed. Had Ginny ever thought of a woman that way? If not, then would she ever? How would she feel if Hermione told her about what had happened last night? _No_, Hermione chastised herself. She was bloody engaged to her youngest brother. She would most likely see it as a sign of… Well, Hermione couldn't say it, but she was at the very least sure that she wouldn't like it, let alone Ron if he knew about it as well. She wished that there was a woman she could talk to about it and ask that sort of stuff. Her mother, who had always been rather religious, somehow didn't seem like a good option. Molly, who had always been close to a second mum, somehow seemed as unlikely as both Ron and Ginny to talk to now.

As Ron turned to her and took James's hand, using it to momentarily wave, she forced a smile on her face. She could do without questions. She was confused enough already without having to be confronted with it by others. "James adores him…" Ginny said.

"Yes, yes, he does…" Hermione replied, thankful for the welcome distraction.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"What're you doing?" Ron murmured, his hands sliding to her exposed shoulders. He looked over her shoulder to the screen of her new laptop – or that's what he thought he had heard her name it. She had hopelessly tried to show him how it worked, but he hadn't understood much in all honesty. The most he got from it was that she could use it to keep in touch with her mum and dad, and it enabled her to look up information on something he believed she had called 'the tirnets' or something.

"Well, I'm reading some stuff about porches. Mum has made mention of it often lately, so I thought maybe I could look for some information online. She's always wanted one, but I entered the mix far sooner than expected, and it just never happened anymore. They aren't so good with the internet either – a bit like you actually." She bit down on her lip as his mouth moved down to the back of her neck… meaningfully so. She turned her head, moving away. "I've got a headache. I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm awfully awake, too, so…"

"Alright," Ron said, his voice slightly disappointed but far from mad or irritated. It did at times, when she had denied him for some days in row. Hermione rather liked to be intimate; however, not as much as Ron did. Maybe the fact that he didn't always leave her satisfied had something to do with it. "Well, I'm definitely knackered. I kind of wonder why you can't just magic a porch if they would like one to be honest," he said.

Hermione laughed, moving one hand to cover his as she replied, "You're always for the easy solutions, aren't you? I'm not surprised you're exhausted after the day you had with James. He was knocked to a peaceful sleep when everyone began to eat, and you've been like twice as energetic. I'm surprised that you managed this long!"

"You know that I can last very long…" he said, teasingly.

"Sometimes, yes…" she said, slightly teasing him back.

She could feel her fiancé's hand move over her shoulder blade down to her waist, then slip forward to her belly. "I would really love to have one of our own one day soon."

"We will," Hermione said, then shrugged him off. "I'll be up later tonight."

Ron squeezed her shoulder for a moment before turning away from her. He moved to leave the room and go upstairs. "Goodnight if I'm asleep when you get there," he said, followed by his footsteps on the wooden steps as he left Hermione alone with the little black box. Ron thought it looked too much like one not to find it a worthy comparison.

* * *

She sipped from her mug of tea, setting it down on the living room table and leaning back against the couch. She had reclined there with her laptop since her position at the table had begun to get uncomfortable, and her battery had been full anyway. She had written down some numbers to companies which made porches and hoped that they could help her further the next day. She closed the open window and moved to her e-mail, but she found nothing new. However, she hadn't really expected any less. She had only replied to her father earlier that night, and she was pretty sure they had gone to sleep by that time. Few others had her mail address, so yeah. She moved her mouse to close down that window, too, when suddenly an ad of sorts popped onto the screen. Usually, she just ignored these without a second thought. However, this title managed to intrigue her, and so, she clicked and was brought to an entirely new page.

Hermione's eyes widened, many stimuli prickling her senses at once. Even more intriguing titles met her gaze and interested her enough to click further. She began to read with a great interest, eyes scanning across the screen and scrolling down when needed. Somehow, she couldn't stop reading. She couldn't just take those eyes off of the screen, despite feeling her cheeks grow hot, undoubtedly blushing. She was so ensnared by those words that she just couldn't be bothered to dwell on wondering if it meant anything. The description of one woman going down on another that way…

It wasn't a path Ron ventured down very often. Then again, it wasn't one she particularly liked. It somehow felt too rough, and at the same time not enough. She closed her eyes, no longer able to read on now. It made her suddenly wanton, made her wonder whether women fucked differently. Oh, what those women did to her brain, making her think like a whore. She was very grateful that she was alone, wasn't forced to talk because it might have sounded vulgar for her. She wondered whether women knew better – after all, they had the same _bits_ by lack of a word more suitable than that. Would they know how to treat those of other women better, too? She whimpered into her left hand, only just managing to lift it to her lips to shush herself, though Ron was peacefully asleep upstairs and not to be worried about.

Her other hand could not be controlled as it moved down, further down and inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

There were no lessons given on the anniversary of the Great Battle, nor were Ministry officials expected to be at work. Hermione Granger thus took the time to take care of the new robes she needed that day. The shops in Diagon Alley would be opened at their usual hours, so she had gone to Madam Malkin's. She hadn't been the only one, though, who had thought of taking that particular day to shop in Diagon Alley.

As more years passed since the memory of the battle, more survivors and others chose not to stay inside anymore on its anniversary. The wound never quite _healed_, but it did become less painful and… more livable. Ergo, Diagon Alley was rather busy and so was Madam Malkin's in particular. It thus took much longer than Hermione could have guessed to get settled – _much_ longer. She had counted on half an hour, given Manuela Malkin had all her sizes and she highly doubted her height or weight had changed much as opposed to three years prior.

Half an hour had, however, turned into nearly three hours. When she finally left with her new purchases, she had a terrible need for a cup of tea before she continued to the apothecary and then went to visit her mum and dad, like she had said to Ron she would. She had seen a lot of familiar faces, of course, but no one whom she knew very well. That was until she neared Willoughby's Tea Shop and literally bumped into none other than Professor Minerva McGonagall. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, only then realizing whom she had run into.

"Miss Granger!"

"Professor! I'm so sorry; I hope you aren't hurt?" She smiled immediately upon seeing the elder woman's reaction, though. In fact, she only just managed to contain a bout of laughter. Minerva quirked her eyebrow quirked in a very characteristic way. She had seen the look often. She knew this look.

"I'm not made of china."

"I know," Hermione said. "I never expected it to be this busy today, but I certainly didn't expect to see you," she admitted.

"Ah. I merely had to solve Hogwarts business with Gringotts – business I have been pushing off for a while and was best taken care of today."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, I was desperately in need of some new robes. In fact, I was just considering having a cup of tea before going over to the apothecary and returning home. Would you care to join me? I was on my way to Willoughby's Tea Shop, unless you know somewhere better?"

"Willoughby's is fine," Minerva replied, a small smile upon her lips. They began to walk again, accompanying each other to the small, old but still cozy café. They were rather famous, with their coffee and tea the best of Wizarding London. "You know, that was one of the first shops here in Diagon Alley, and it still looks exactly like it did when I was younger."

"I didn't know that," Hermione admitted, a smile upon her lips, too. Minerva McGonagall had a particular way of stimulating the younger woman's mind, being a well of knowledge of so many sorts. Wise is what some called her, and Hermione hoped to be like that when she was an old woman. She knew that the headmistress' age was slightly deceiving, though. Professor McGonagall had aged with grace, as they said sometimes, so that most who didn't know her would guess her to be twenty or more years younger than she actually was. Wizarding folk aged much slower, and Minerva merely proved that theory, if you had no knowledge at all about the insane ages some witches and wizards reached before dying. Dumbledore, for instance, had been 115, and he most likely would have reached 150 or older if it hadn't been for the curse of the ring Tom Riddle, then already Voldemort, had turned into his second Horcrux, after his old diary.

As always, conversation between the two witches flowed effortlessly – it already had while at Hogwarts. That was one of the reasons why Hermione Granger had always liked the company of the older Gryffindor. "Forgive me, but… you look rather tired," Minerva noted at one point, sipping from her cup of herbal tea.

"Oh? Well, I've had a couple of nights of little sleep," she replied, redirecting the conversation to Transfiguration Today's latest article.

Once they had both drained their cups of tea after about an hour more, they stood to pay old Mr. Willoughby, Minerva mentioning that she really had to go back to the castle, and Hermione that she really had to get to the apothecary, or she would never even make it to her mum and dad's that day.

So it happened that they walked to Slug & Jiggers, where their ways parted. "Professor, it was great to see you once again, as always," Hermione offered.

Minerva merely smiled and accepted the momentary embrace. After all, when would they maybe see each other again after this little encounter? The women parted again, and Minerva nodded politely before popping away undoubtedly to Hogsmeade, or to Hogwarts itself, given she, as its headmistress, had the privilege of getting through those charms and tricky spells.

Her perfume lingered in Hermione's nose, though – it did so for most of the day. Her eyes fluttered shut at this, and as they had so often, the lesbian scene she had accidentally come upon pushed to the first row, but suddenly, the woman who had had spiky black hair now suddenly had long, slightly curly graying ebony locks, green eyes, a far older posture, and… and the other woman… was her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

She didn't go to visit her mum and dad after all when she had done her purchases at Slug & Jiggers. Instead, she Apparated to the house of the Lovegoods, in Ottery St. Catchpole, where Luna lived with her father still. She didn't believe it would be a good idea to go visit her folks in that state in which Minerva McGonagall had left her former pupil – that without even realizing it, Hermione was certain.

She felt like she was going to burst soon from the confusion she felt, regarding the lesbian scenes she had witnessed rather accidentally and read, but especially regarding how those characters had gotten replaced with Minerva and her. Hermione was engaged, was heterosexual... or wasn't she really? She had always been able to converse nicely with Professor McGonagall, had always definitely admired her, but why _her_? She barely saw the woman once a year or so. She barely knew the woman behind the headmistress title, knew nothing of her life. _Nothing_ had changed between them, had it? Why McGonagall and why suddenly now? She had never felt that way for any woman, if that meant she was feeling it at all! She began to doubt everything now. What was she feeling really?

She couldn't go to Ginny with this – not… with this. Imagine telling the sister of the wizard that you're going to marry that you're imagining making love to a woman. Luna Lovegood had always been a little weird, so Hermione quietly surmised that if anyone would get her or _try_ at least no matter how weird it sounded, it would definitely be Luna Lovegood.

Hermione only smiled weakly as she accepted the mug of tea from Luna and followed her with her eyes as she sat opposite her, sipping from her own. "Daddy's having an interview with someone for the next edition of The Quibbler. He'll be home late tonight, he suspected," she replied to the question of the Gryffindor. "What's going on? There must be something."

Hermione eyed her as if 'caught'. "I– I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling like _that _person who visited only when they really needed something suddenly. True, she saw Luna far less often than she saw Harry and Ginny, and usually they agreed to a date and a time when they did meet. Usually Ron came with, too… She had arrived very unexpectedly, without Ron.

"Oh, don't apologize," Luna dreamily stated, regarding her with those blue eyes. "Everyone does that a little bit."

"I…" Hermione began and sighed deeply, her eyes fluttering shut as she mentioned how she had accidentally come across the scene on the television, how it had immediately had a certain effect, how the lesbian stories had had even a worse one and how confused that had already made her feel, without McGonagall…

"You could be bisexual," Luna offered. "I suppose that Professor McGonagall is attractive for her age. I couldn't really say."

"See, you don't like women at all. That's how it should be."

Luna sighed then, which was very uncharacteristic for the daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood. "I've never really liked anyone," she admitted. "I can say objectively whether someone is nice to look at and has a nice personality, but I don't believe that I've ever been in love – not truly. I do know that that it is most likely considered abnormal. Many people say that I'm loony already, though… so even if anyone knew, they might say that it is normal for me. The advantage is that I've never been in love with someone who wasn't in love with me, which I suppose would be the case if I ever did. Most people don't like me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Hermione said. She was… surprised, but the thought of it being 'abnormal' never came to mind. She couldn't be the only one, though Hermione didn't know of any other girl in that position. "Maybe you haven't really met the right person yet," she concluded.

"We'll see," Luna replied, suddenly redirecting the conversation again. "I do know it is not unlikely to be attracted to more than one person, even when you're involved. It doesn't have to mean that you love Ron any less. I would begin to worry when you're thinking more about her or anyone else."

Hermione sighed, slowly leaning over to set her cup down. She regarded the blonde Ravenclaw and shook her head, glad that Luna had not condemned her but disappointed that she wasn't any wiser for confessing, too. She wasn't a fan of this sort of tea – never had been really. "I guess you are right. I'm just confused, because I've never even… Why McGonagall, Luna? Why now?"

"I couldn't answer that," Luna admitted. She seemed to ponder Hermione's question before she spoke, "Pheromones are responsible for falling in love. They change, so maybe…"

"Maybe," Hermione agreed. She sighed once more. "I just can't make any sense of all this; it is rather strange, not to be able to make sense at all of yourself, of what you feel and don't feel."

"That's understandable…"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_I do know it is not unlikely to be attracted to more than one person, even when you're involved. It doesn't have to mean that you love Ron any less._

Her manicured nails dug into the flesh of Ron's back, marking him. She could feel the hotness of his breath expelled against her neck, her throat… his lips hungrily following. When he came inside her, Hermione didn't. He lowered himself atop of her, now unable to hold his weight. When he had regained, he slipped from her sheath. With a light kiss to the side of her neck, his hand slowly moved down over her abdomen to where they had been joined. He cupped her then, and Hermione's own hand moved to find his, guiding it.

She guided his head down with her other hand, though she didn't know just why she did it. Fingers slipped easily into her then, and his mouth slowly trailed over her nether lips. As his tongue moved down through them, Hermione jerked. Her body arched into his wet touch. Her eyes fluttered shut.

_I would begin to worry when you're thinking more about her or anyone else._

As if on cue, images of Minerva McGonagall in her Animagus shape and licking her paw spilled into her mind. It didn't make sense – for one, because she had never seen McGonagall do so. _No. _She wouldn't allow those images to take over now. She wouldn't let them invade her mind now while in bed with her fiancé. Images of the older woman's smile earlier that day took over; this wasn't really for the better. She couldn't control them anymore now. She had to stop… She began to push at Ron's shoulders – just when his lips locked upon her clit and began to suckle. She came, with uncontrolled images of Minerva McGonagall still in her mind.

Hermione was barely conscious of Ron moving to lie down on beside her, holding her against him. Snores filled the bedroom not long after, and Hermione wriggled free, inching to the side of the bed, as far away as possible from him without necessarily needing to leave their double bed. Hermione was glad he usually fell asleep fast. That way, she could cry without worrying over him feeling how her shoulders shook with sobs as tears rolled down her cheeks.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Ron, I'm fine!" Hermione called from within the room. Her voice sounded rather weak, though – as if she had just puked her gut from her body into the bowl. It wouldn't be far from what had really happened. She raised her hand to her mouth to try suppress another bout of nausea and waited a little while before she spoke once again, surer that she would not have to vomit again. "I won't be able to go into work, though. Please, tell Kingsley I'm so sorry…" she managed.

"If you're sure you are fine," she heard. Then, when she didn't reply, she could hear her fiancé's footsteps move away from the other side. She clamped her belly with a hand, the other still gripping onto the edge of the white toilet seat. She hadn't really felt that bad in years, that nauseous and crappy. She knew both were somehow related, though. She knew why she was sitting there, curled up beside the toilet seat on the cold floor, having puked a couple of times already. It wasn't really something Hermione had eaten, she knew – not now. Usually, when someone got sick suddenly, they blamed food they had recently had – for one reason or another, that was human nature. Hermione was rather sure it wasn't that, though.

She let go of the toilet seat and leaned back against the wall, sighing deeply. Beads of cold sweat had formed on her forehead; a pale color had overtaken her face. Hermione Granger's life and all she had ever truly believed in had crashed down on her. She was very logical, very down-to-earth. She was known to be good at putting all in perspective when needed, knew where to find knowledge when she didn't have the wisdom required.

It had only been a couple of days ago when she had sat with Luna, telling her about the great confusion she felt… It seemed like just yesterday, but so very much had changed in those days already. From not being aware she was attracted to women, to imagining Minerva McGonagall while making love to Ron Weasley, her fiancé – a male.

_I would begin to worry when you're thinking more about her or anyone else._

_I would begin to worry when you're thinking more about her or anyone else._

The words kept rushing through Hermione's head – and what they meant. She should definitely worry now. No, this wasn't a phase or whatever. Though she knew little indeed at that point, she knew this at least somehow. She was so confused, so lost… and at the same time, the truth was beginning to become clear; what she should do…

She momentarily considered the thought of secretly having been gay forever, but that wasn't possible, for she did love her fiancé, of this Hermione was sure, too. Bisexual then? Maybe… she was just beginning to lose that feeling of being in love with him? Were the butterflies simply leaving? If so, wasn't it supposed to have happened much sooner already? If so, wasn't it supposed to be exchanged for something… stronger?

Of course she loved him, but… did she feel it as well, feel that something stronger?

She sighed, her eyes moving to her lap. _Oh, fuck_. What if? Ron and she hadn't used any sort of birth control in months. She could very well… She might be expecting… What if the vomiting wasn't from food, nor a consequence of her situation? What if this was morning sickness, nothing else? What if she was carrying Ron's child inside her now?

She wasn't sure how she felt about the possibility, but it made her belly tighten in a rather uncomfortable way. She somehow found she would be very glad if she wasn't… and that was an eye-opening thought. It wasn't only the realization of how much more intricate all would be if she was. She knew that she needed to know – today. Once she could hold herself together and go to an apothecary to get… With that, she vomited once more.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

She had never felt this relieved in her life. She wasn't with child. That made it less intricate than she thought. She leaned her head upon her arms, sighing heavily.

In a matter of days, Minerva McGonagall had overtaken Hermione's entire mind, leaving no room at all for Ron, her fiancé, her partner of seven years now. She couldn't quite believe how it had happened. She and Ron had had such a love-hate relationship for many years before they had gotten to this point, which Minerva had reached in just a couple of days. She and Minerva didn't have any sort of 'relationship'. She had been her Head of House, her teacher, a person to admire maybe, but no more. She knew so little of the older witch in fact. Was it a bout of mere lust and curiosity? She wondered. Was a love born in mere days? Was that even possible? Ron and Minerva were very different beings, attracted Hermione in many different ways...

Hermione sighed and wondered if maybe she had had some weird crush on Minerva McGonagall while at Hogwarts without realizing. She came to the same conclusions as she already had so often, though. She had thought of McGonagall as admirable, as fascinating… strangely intriguing, but _no_, it had never been in that way. She had never been interested in McGonagall romantically… well, until recently.

Oh, yes, who was she fooling anymore? She was interested in Minerva Fucking McGonagall, whether she could make sense of it or not. She must be bisexual – maybe gay – but definitely not heterosexual. Oh no.

Those emotions she felt for McGonagall exhilarated her, intoxicated her… They seemed almost dangerous, and maybe they were in one way or another. The thought of her and McGonagall sounded ridiculous. What she felt for the older witch could easily lead to heartbreak. It would, she knew. She would never get to convince McGonagall it wasn't a phase, as she had had to convince herself in a way. Minerva McGonagall was a woman of 'principles', too – the sort who would not be comfortable being with a pupil or even former one, someone so much younger. She laughed at her own foolishness – bitterly so. She had not even thought of the obstacle that was bound to be the most crucial: her gender. Hermione Granger wasn't only a former pupil and younger… but female, too.

Minerva McGonagall was an older generation – quite possibly the kind who had learned that a romantic relationship between two men or women was a sin, an abnormality. If that was the case, she would never even consider it, Hermione knew. She supposed that her mom and dad would most likely be shocked to say the least were they remotely aware of what was going on in their daughter's head now.

Even if she knew nothing could ever happen between her and McGonagall, was it really fair for her to go and act like nothing had happened? It wouldn't be fair to her fiancé, surely. She begged for advice, and at the same time she knew that she needed to get to terms with this all herself, _alone_. No one felt what she felt; no one knew what she knew. No one else could make this decision for her either. She needed time really. She just needed to get her mind together and rely upon it. While it had never disappointed her, this situation somehow seemed harder than any other ever.

She shook her head, sighed and looked down at her ringed finger. It would be best if she could conclude something before their wedding, no? It would be less difficult in many ways – legally to begin with. A relationship, and engagement… it all seemed so much easier to dissolve than a _marriage_, a legal bond witnessed by their families. She would somehow have to find an excuse for Saturday, when she would go and look at some wedding dresses with Ginny. Her thoughts were not on wedding dresses or anything else to do with that day now.

It would only be later when she realized that those thoughts had already founded her coming decision.

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**~~ Finite Incantatem ~**

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SEQUEL: "_What We Can Be_", to be posted on October 8.**  
**


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